The stupid neither forgive nor forget; the naive forgive and forget; the wise forgive, but do not forget..

-Thomas Szasz

 

 

"He said that everything looks good," I tell Collin over the phone as I drive towards Lidiya's.

I know, I know, I should be happy with what I've got and stop obsessing over my ex, but I have to see her one last time. I just need some fucking closure, I guess. Obviously, Bree isn't with me and has no idea where I'm going. I told her that I was going to meet up with Tony, which was true. I just didn't mention where I was planning to go beforehand.

"Alright, that's great. Have you seen Tony yet?"

"No," I respond. "I'm on my way to Lidiya's to get some of my shit, then I'm headed to his place."

Silence on the other end. Collin is terrified of Tony, and is probably still expecting some form of punishment in the way of a beating. Personally, I don't think he has anything to worry about. If Tony wanted him dead or roughed up, it'd have happened by now.

"Good luck with that cunt, and please don't say anything bad about me to Tony, especially concerning my weed habits."

"Don't worry, I'll try not to mention you at all."

Collin breathes a sigh of relief.

"You're the fuckin' man. I think that'd be for the best. Out of sight, out of mind...so to speak. You still wanna meet up at D&B's afterwards?"

"Yeah, sure," I say as I pull into Lidiya's driveway. Dave and Buster's is like a giant arcade for adults. The plan is to finally celebrate my birthday now that I've got a clean bill of health. However, to ensure I'm 100% for my match on Sunday with that fucker Steve Jason, I'm still going to stay away from alcohol.As I pull in, I realize that her car is here, as is a brand new, Cadillac Escalade. "But listen, I've gotta run. I'll call you later."

The only type of idiot that would drive an Escalade this gaudy is the drug dealing kind, and the fact that it's brand new makes me think that Lidiya probably gave him the down payment. I put my car in reverse, then back it up to the end of the driveway, confident that Lidiya isn't even awake now. After all, it's only noon. That bitch should be out for at least a few more hours.

I park my beautiful 09 Mustang (Goddamn did I miss this thing while I was overseas) behind the bushes, sure that it's out of sight. This is the exact spot where I would park my piece of shit Oldsmobile when I used to sneak over in high school.

I stay low, and move swiftly towards the Escalade, picking up a small stone on the way. Here's something for all of you aspiring car thieves to learn: tinted windows don't shatter completely when you throw a small rock at the corner closest to the lock. Of course, this asshole's tinted the windows of the Escalade to the point that I can't even fucking see inside of it, so there's no way he can see anything when he's driving. What an asshole. Endangering lives to look cool, how fucking hood of you.

I smash the window, reach inside and try to unlock the door.

"You stupid motherfucker," I whisper to myself as I realize that the door is already unlocked. Oh well, at least I got to ruin this asshole's window. I open the glove box and search for the title, unsure as to whether or not I'll find it. Thugs don't register their cars with the state or carry insurance, right? After a few seconds I give up on the glove box and move to the center console, immediately spotting it on top of a giant bag of weed. Surprise, surprise. I smirk, grab the bag, and stuff two handfulls of it in my pockets. Then I hock a giant loogey, spit in the bag, and put it back.

As I look over the title, my suspicions are proven to be true. This car is registered in Lidiya's name. When I glance inside and look at the rosary hanging from the rearview mirror, along with a bunch of other chains, I'm sure that she isn't the one driving it around. No, that would be her drug dealing boyfriend, who I realize is not black or a Puerto Rican, as I had earlier suspected, but motherfucking Italian.

How do I know that?

Because the motherfucker has an Italian flag pendant hanging from the mirror along with all that other bullshit. I really don't think she could've stooped any lower than to have started fucking some guido who probably lives in Langhorne (A suburb of Philly) with his fat mother and limp-dicked father. I'd bet you anything that if I turned this car on, some loud, obnoxious techno music would start blasting through the speakers. Shit, if I searched the car thoroughly, I'd probably find a liter of hair gel, some Axe, and a fucking can of spray tan.

Holy shit, do I hate Guidos.

I huff, then shut the door and head for the house, not even sure if I want to fucking be here anymore. I came here for closure, but I feel like all I'm doing is taking steps back. Sure, I can go in there and cuss her out and tell her what a bitch she's been and how much happier I am without her, but I can pretty much guarantee that I'm going to go in there, see this WOP, and beat his fucking face in.

Fuck it. A little assault and battery might make me feel better.

I head for the back of the house, walk up the expensive wooden deck (that was built with Irish brawn, mind you), and reach for the sliding glass door. As I do so, I catch a look at my own reflection.

"What are you doing, man?"

No, I'm not developing a split personality. Smart Ace is trying to talk to Caveman Ace.

"I need to tell her a couple of things."

Smart Ace waves me off.

"Grow the fuck up."

"You grow the fuck up."

He shakes his head in disgust.

"What could you possibly say to her that will matter? Will it fucking change anything?"

I shrug.

"I just need to get it off my chest."

"Are you serious? You're not going on Taxicab Confessions, stupid. You got treated like shit, you got dumped, now fucking get over it. It's that simple."

I can't help but smile as I realize that he's right. Of course he's right, he's me, and no one knows me better than...well, me. I look at him and nod, amazed by his insight.

"Good. Now let's go fuck that girl with the huge implants who let's us go ass to mouth-"

"Hey, I told you that in confidence!"

I turn around and head for my car, smiling from ear to ear. If you'd have told me a month ago that I'd be over Lidiya Gamburg, I'd have told you that you were a fucking re-re (that's slang for retard, you retard), but here I am, a month later, happily leaving her house without having said a word to her.

"Ace?"

Fuck.

I turn around to face her, hating myself for being here in the first place.

"Look, I-"

"Ana?"

She slides the glass door open the rest of the way, visibly distraught.

"What's the matter?"

"I'm sorry," she says as she slowly walks towards me. Something is wrong with her, though I'm not sure what it is. My first instinct is to run away from her, but as I scan her for weapons, I see nothing that could cause me harm. "I tried to fight him-"

She collapses forward, and I somehow manage to catch her before she hits the ground. I lower her to the ground slowly, my strong hand behind her head and my weak one wrapped around her waist. It is then that I feel the warmth flowing from her skull.

My phone rings, and I pick it up.

"Whoever this is, call a fucking ambulance and tell them to get to 215 Knollview Drive in Philly!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Tony! I'm at Gamburg's house, and his mistress is fucking bleeding to death! Get someone out here!"

"Ace-"

Ana is trying to get my attention, but I shush her.

"Save your breath, honey. I'm going to take care of you."

I turn my attention back towards the phone and my boss on the other end of the line.

"Tony, you there?!"

"Yeah, kid. I've got a couple of guys on their way out there right now. Gamburg is going to owe us a serious favor after we save his favorite piece of pussy."

What an asshole. There's a woman dying right now, and all he can think about is how it's going to benefit him in the future (which is immensely, if I'm going to be honest. Ana, as I've explained before, was trafficked from Mexico and pulled out of a whorehouse by Yuri, who is the head of the Russian Mob and my ex-girlfriend's father. Yuri is going to be extremely happy if we save her.), but as long as help gets here, I'm not going to complain.

"Can you do me a favor and let Collin know that I'm not going to be able to meet up with him because of this?"

There is a pause on the other end of the line that can only be interpreted as anger. I hope that I'm not getting Collin in to trouble.

"You know where Collin is?"

"What?", is all I can manage to get out. There are a lot of things wrong with that question, and I'm not even sure where to begin.

"Is he with you?"

"Uh, not at the moment. But-"

I drop the phone when I see him emerge from the house. He has a gun in his right hand, a white cloth in his left hand, and a smile stretched across his face.

"Y-you-," I stutter. "How the fuck are you here?"

I drop Ana as the Boogeyman marches towards me, and I crawl backwards. The entire moment feels like a dream. My legs won't move quickly enough, but he's moving faster than what seems possible. As I finally manage to spin around and head for my car, I feel one arm wrap around my arms and chest, and before I know it, a cloth is covering my mouth and all I can taste is metal. The world grays, and I topple to the ground like a falling tree. My body won't respond, but I'm completely awake and aware as my father crouches down beside me.

"Boy, we've got some catching up to do."

 

 

I drop Collin on the ground as the memories rush back to me. We've just reached the parking lot of the hotel, and we only have a few minutes before my father wakes up and gives chase. On top of all that, it's fucking pouring rain.

"You son of a bitch," I say as I realize that it was Collin who sold me out to him. The constant paranoia over us listening to his phone calls, him showing up to be my manager without hearing it from Tony himself, and then the fucking cherry on top, when I realized that Tony had absolutely no idea Collin had been traveling with me. "You sold me out to my fucking father?"

I grab him by the collar and pull him to my face.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "The feds made me do it."

I drop him back on the ground, then look at our surroundings. We're in the fucking middle of nowhere (which I didn't think was possible in Philly, but who's to say we're even in the city anymore? Knowing how cautious my father is, and how meticulously he plans things, I'd bet money on us being in somewhere up north, probably close to the New York border).

"I should fucking leave you here to die!" I scream as I spot a steal-able car. I reach down and grab Collin's left leg, then drag him with me as I head for the 92 Civic. Anyone else would leave this piece of shit, but for some inexplicable reason, I can't. Maybe I just want to kill him myself. I use my elbow to break the driver's side window (which hurts like a motherfucker, but what choice do I have?), then I unlock the door and hot wire the piece of shit. Once it starts, I run around to the back of the car, open the trunk, then I grab Collin and throw him in. That motherfucker has lost his shotgun privileges. I jump back in, slam my foot on the gas, and the car hydroplanes, of course. We skid sideways out of the parking lot, and as I look towards the hotel, I see my father emerge from his room, the left half of his face covered in blood. He lifts his gun and fires off a few rounds, but none of them even graze the car. I speed off, praying for a gas station nearby.

I check my pockets for my phone, but there's nothing. My father has my phone, my wallet and my car keys, which shouldn't surprise me. He's not a fucking crackhead who fell into this, he's a fucking seasoned killer who planned it.

I spot a Wendy's sign off in the distance, park in front of the door, and rush inside.

"I need a fucking phone!", I scream at the clerk. She drops down on the floor and slams her hand on the silent alarm. Fucking great, now the cops are on their way. The last people in the world I want to deal with right now are the police. The police are the ones who told me my father was going to be in jail for the rest of his life. The police are supposedly the ones who have Collin in their pocket. Who the fuck knows what they'll do if they get their hands on me. Maybe they'll turn me over to that son of a bitch and let him finish what he started when I was twelve years old.

I don't fucking think so.

I hop the counter, grab a knife, cut the ropes off of my wrists, then turn towards the dumb bitch who set off the alarm.

"Give me your fucking phone!"

She screams then reaches in her pockets with shaky hands and pulls it out. She tries to hand it to me, but she's trembling so badly that she drops it and it skids across the floor, which enrages me to no end.

"YOU DUMB FUCK!"

I grab the phone, hop back over the counter, and rush out to the car. As I pull out of the parking lot, I see red and blue lights in the distance. I keep the car at 45, and cruise past them, even going so far as to wave at them. The dumb motherfuckers actually wave back. If they had a lick of sense, they'd have realized that I have no driver's side window, and it's fucking pouring out. Stupid, donut loving, cocksuckers.

I drive for a few miles and I finally spot a Exit sign that reads "Clark Summit - 2 Miles". Just like I figured, we're in North PA. I pull over and dial Tony's number. He picks up on the fifth ring.

"Who is this?"

"Tony!", I scream. "Just fucking listen to me for a second, alright? My fucking dad is not in jail, he's as free as a goddamned bird and he's the one who attacked Gamburg's mistress."

"Ace? Where are you?"

"Listen! He kidnapped me and Collin, who is a fucking rat! Did you know that?"

"You're kidding me.."

"He's the one who told my dad where he could find me, and dad paid him back by nearly beating him to death."

"Where are you?"

"I'm two miles from Clark's Summit. I escaped with Collin, we're in a piece of shit Civic but I've gotta get rid of it ASAP because the cops are gonna be looking for it."

"You go to Clark's Summit, and you fucking hide. The feds are all over Gamburg's place right now, looking for your old man."

"They're the ones who let him out!"

"How long have you been out of it, kid?"

"I have no idea."

"Your old man is a CI for a rouge agent who was found dead inside of Gamburg's house. The dead guy was apparently trying to earn his way back into the Bureau but your pops fed him some bogus information and then killed him at Gamburg's. It's fuckin' Cloak N' Dagger shit."

"Tony, if Collin sold me out, then he probably also sold Bree out."

"That's your girlfriend, yeah?"

"Yeah! Please send someone to go check on her."

"We already did, Ace. She's gone. The cops are looking for her, for you, and for Collin. No one but me knows where you are now. I'm sending some guys up there to come get you. You just lay low until then, kapeesh?"

I don't bother to answer him back. Bree is gone, and probably dead, and it's my fault. It's because my father is a fucking lunatic, and my best friend is a degenerate, disloyal piece of shit. I hang up on Tony, then dial my own number. Dad picks up on the first ring.

"I suppose you've gotten to a television."

"Where is she?"

"Where are you?"

"Is she even alive?"

"Maybe."

I spot the exit for Clark's Summit up ahead. If I take it, she's dead for sure. If I turn around and go after him, I might be able to save her.

"What do you want?"

My father laughs on the other end of the line.

"I just want to have some one on one time with my boy. Is that so much to ask?"

"Where?"

"Well, seeing as how you caused a ruckus at the hotel and destroyed the low profile I'd been keeping, I'm going to have to change locations."

"Meet me in Clark's Summit."

"Too many people, and now I know where you are. You're terrible at keeping yourself hidden. Turn around, drive forty miles or so down the road, and you'll hit Montrose, Pennsylvania."

"I've never heard of it."

"That's the fucking point."

"I want proof that she's alive. I want to hear her voice."

"No, you're going to take my word for it, and you're going to show up alone. If you call the cops, she dies. If you call Tony, she dies. If you try any funny business, she will fucking die. Do you understand me?"

"What makes you think I'll take your word on anything?"

"I may be a bastard, and I may be trying to kill you, but I've never lied to you. Believe me when I say that if you try anything at all, I will kill this woman, and then I'll disappear again. You'll live out the rest of your life, always looking over your shoulder for me, and hating yourself for letting her die."

The line goes dead and I stuff the phone back in my pocket. The smart person would call the cops, or at the very least, tell Tony about my new destination. But, the smart person didn't see a monster shoot his mother. The smart person didn't have his father try to murder him as well. The smart person sure as hell hasn't had their girlfriend kidnapped and held hostage, so the smart person has absolutely no fucking idea what to do in a situation like this.

A situation like this calls for someone to be extremely bold, because planning to kill your armed father with your bare hands is very fucking stupid.